


Breathless

by Aichi



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Breathplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Non-Sexual Kink, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6301078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aichi/pseuds/Aichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ibuki kicks the crap out of Mamoru. And I don't mean in a cardfight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit maybe this is massively OOC but I don't even care any more it's just self-indulgent trash anyway.
> 
> This is the first time I've ever actually witten anything kinky and finished it? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
> 
> I don't even know the names of my own kinks so I don't know how to tag this sorry.

It's amazing how clueless Kouji Ibuki can be sometimes.

Not that Mamoru can really complain, considering his current situation – lying on his side on the floor with the sole of Ibuki's shoe pressing against his cheek. One side of his face is pushed against the carpet and his hair is a tousled mess, but he can't do much about any of it while his hands are cuffed behind him. Experimentally, he squirms a little, testing his bonds. Surprisingly, the leather cuffs themselves are actually quite comfortable, but having his wrists bound like this pulls his shoulders back in a way that is quickly starting to hurt. He's pretty sure his hip is going to bruise too after the way Ibuki threw him to the ground. And they've barely even started yet.

When Mamoru had first suggested that he wanted Ibuki to beat him, the response he'd gotten was a quip about how “I already beat you in almost all our cardfights”. He'd been momentarily amused by the joke before realising that Ibuki was _serious_ , and, ridiculously, had found himself very awkwardly having to explain the entire concept of S&M to a grown man. Mamoru had honestly pegged Ibuki as the type to enjoy this kind of thing, dominating someone like this, considering the cool and controlling way he always carries himself. He's impressively obtuse when it comes to any kind of actual interpersonal communication though, and in retrospect, Mamoru really shouldn't have expected anything else.

He'd struggled to explain the appeal of the scenario he had in mind – because “why would you _enjoy_ suffering?” – but in the end Ibuki not only agreed to it, he adapted to his role surprisingly quickly. If nothing else, he's a good actor.

Ibuki puts a little more weight on the foot against Mamoru's cheek. It's not enough to hurt, just enough to make their positions clear and establish which of them is in charge. Mamoru lets himself moan quietly in response, in a way that he hopes shows off how vulnerable the situation makes him. This is what he'd been after when he brought the whole idea up – the total loss of control, putting himself entirely in the hands of someone else.

The quiet little “hmph” of satisfaction that Ibuki makes sends anticipatory shivers down his spine.

_He really_ is _quite good at this after all_ , Mamoru thinks. He knows how to set the scene, at least, and use that air of dominance he has to his advantage. He doesn't _talk_ enough though. Mamoru wants to hear how satisfying it is to see him like this, wants to be told how good he's going to look once he's broken and shivering and moaning. He wants Ibuki to give him orders, or make him beg, or _something_.

Still frustratingly silent, Ibuki puts his foot against Mamoru's shoulder and shoves, rolling him onto his back. The new position traps his bound hands uncomfortably beneath him, and he squirms in a pointless attempt to make things more tolerable. He lets out a gasp as Ibuki steps down on his shoulder again, this time putting on just enough weight to actually hurt. The message is clear even without words – _don't struggle_.

Obediently, Mamoru lies still as the sole of Ibuki's shoe drags across his collarbone and up his neck, until the toe nudges under his chin. He allows it to tilt his head back slowly, until the two of them make eye contact. Ibuki's gaze is cold and expressionless, and Mamoru honestly isn't sure if that's part of his act or not. He hopes it is. He doesn't want this whole thing to just be for himself, he wants Ibuki to have fun as well, but it's so hard to judge his reactions.

Mamoru's breathing is heavy, but steady, so as a test, he swallows, and his throat bobs visibly under Ibuki's foot. He hopes the action is suggestive enough.

The reaction is immediate. Ibuki's lips curl into a subtle smile, and he shifts so that his heel rests over Mamoru's throat. Slowly, he presses down. At first, it's just uncomfortable, but as he puts more weight on his foot, the pressure starts to hurt, and it begins to constrict Mamoru's breathing. Ibuki doesn't break eye contact the entire time, his gaze betraying only the tiniest hint of desire as Mamoru's breaths become more shallow and rasping. Despite his growing discomfort, he wants to reach up and grab Ibuki's ankle to urge him on, but of course, his hands are still trapped, and all he can do is wait as his throat is slowly, painfully crushed, until his air is finally cut off altogether.

The edge of Ibuki's heel digs into his neck, sharp pain mingling with a slow burning sensation that starts in his throat and slowly spreads down to his chest as his lungs protest the lack of air. He struggles a little, not out of genuine distress, but just for the sake of it, imagining how he must look from Ibuki's point of view – dishevelled and squirming beneath his foot, mouth open and gasping uselessly. His face feels hot and flushed, and soon black spots start to crowd at the edges of his vision. The sound of his own pulse pounds in his ears, and he feels the tiniest hint of fear. Part of him wonders if Ibuki is actually going to lift his foot again at all, or if he's going to just stand there, watching with that expressionless face as Mamoru struggles and writhes and slowly gets weaker, unable to even free his hands to try and claw his attacker off. _No_ , he reminds himself firmly, he trusts Ibuki. That's why he was able to ask for this in the first place.

After what feels like forever, the pressure finally lifts. Mamoru's chest heaves as he takes a much-needed breath, and he breaks into a fit of coughing, his throat raw and burning as air is forced through it again. Eventually, the shivers racking his body subside, and he lets his eyes close as he lies back and breathes in and out gratefully. Ibuki's heel still rests, gently now, against his throat, and he waits uneasily for it to be forced down once more. Instead, it lifts completely, and he blinks in surprise. Surely Ibuki isn't finished with him _already_ , is he?

The question gets answered before he can ask it as, without warning, Ibuki brings his foot down _hard_ on Mamoru's stomach. What little breath he'd gotten back is let out in a ragged cry of pain, which is only made worse as Ibuki grinds the heel in for good measure. His bound hands are crushed painfully under him, and, as the foot lifts again in preparation for a second stomp, he rolls instinctively onto his side to protect himself.

Ibuki takes the opportunity to kick him in the stomach this time. There's even more force behind the blow in this position, and Mamoru lets out another pained moan, his body jerking with the impact. He only gets in a single, desperate breath before Ibuki kicks him again, even harder. More blows follow, driving into him again, and again, and again, too irregularly timed for him to properly brace himself. His body shudders involuntarily with each new impact, and with each accompanying wave of pain. There's no way this isn't going to leave some serious bruises. Mamoru groans at the thought of how his skin is going to look in a few days.

Another particularly hard blow hits him, jolting his already-tender body, and Mamoru doesn't even have the breath left to cry or moan any more. All he can manage is a quiet whimper, and apparently Ibuki takes it as a signal to stop.

At last, Mamoru is allowed to properly get his breath back. His body heaves with relief as air finally fills his lungs again, and he's suddenly aware of how much every part of him aches, and how incredibly fast his heart is beating. As his breathing starts to return to normal, he does his best to shake his messy hair out of his eyes – which is difficult without the use of his hands – and looks up at Ibuki. His brow is creased slightly in apparent concern, and Mamoru offers a reassuring smile.

“So,” Ibuki asks, after a moment, “Was that what you wanted?”

“I-” Mamoru struggles to find words in between still-heavy breaths. He's already got a dozen suggestions for things Ibuki can improve next time, if there _is_ a next time, but instead he simply replies “-Yes. Thank you.”

Ibuki smiles, and it's that kind of warm, genuine smile that's so rare to see from him.

“You look good like this,” he says. “I think I can see the appeal now.”

Mamoru smiles back, and makes a mental note to find out when Ibuki's birthday is. He's going to get the man a nice expensive pair of boots.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a terrible idea and I already regret it.


End file.
